The Hermit

The Hermit

I dwell apart
From the world of men.

I lift my eyes
To the mighty hills,
And sit in silent reverie
By rushing streams.
My songs
Are the whisperings of the winds
And the soft murmurs
Of falling rain.

Blossoms open
And flutter to earth again.
Men come
Men go ;
Year follows year,
And life goes on.

China, 18th Century
Hsu Pen